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Reheated

Reheated (137)

September 28, 2026 33 Comments

From the archives, a compendium of progressive racial agonising.

If We Just Stop Noticing, Everything Will Be Fine.

San Diego schools, where meanings must be inverted.

The practices being confronted – i.e., excluded from consideration in academic grading – include expectations of “turning work in on time” and norms of “classroom behaviour.” Abandoning such standards is, we learn, an “accountability measure.”

On grounds that acknowledging tardiness, misbehaviour and a lack of diligence results in “racial imbalance,” which, in the land of the bedlamites, simply won’t do.

And so, those sufficiently dense and inclined to antisocial behaviour will be given a license to disregard normal deadlines and to be selfishly disruptive, all with academic impunity. Why, it’s convenient and morally improving. Mr Patterson, an eleventh-grader who deploys the word inequities with dutiful enthusiasm, informs us, “Students all across the district are excited about this.”

You see, expecting students to meet basic standards of behaviour, punctuality, and, it seems, probity – say, resisting the urge to cheat – is “not fair,” according to San Diego Unified School District Vice President Richard Barrera, who adds that the new policy is – and I quote – “an honest reckoning.”

Indeed, we’re told that this self-satisfied obliteration of standards, all in the name of racial fairness, is “a change that’s been a long time in coming,” one that “reflects reality.”

Again, an intriguing choice of words.

Clown Quarter Contagion.

At Birmingham University, all is not well. Witch-hunting ensues.

Professor Rowe admits that no evidence of “overt prejudice” against women and minorities has been found, but he nonetheless hopes to inflict discomfort on those deemed sufficiently pale. As if, in itself, this would be some kind of triumph.

“We are mindful that previous attempts at addressing such imbalances have not been successful,” says the professor. And so, rather than revisiting his own egalitarian assumptions regarding the distribution of interest, aptitude and talent, he and his team will be searching for witches and racial ectoplasm.

It’s not unreasonable to suppose that the role of “reverse mentor” will attract people already sympathetic to the hokum being peddled, and intrigued by the personal leverage it affords, and who may feel an ideological obligation to unearth some damning but invisible sin, fairly or otherwise, if only to validate their own conceits.

Which is to say, the so-called mentors – who’ve agreed to participate in a project that by definition assumes white guilt regardless of evidence or lack thereof – seem more likely to be racially bigoted than any random member of staff.

What’s objectionable, among so much else, is the conceit that these clowns, with their weird racial fixations, have any business at all probing the unconscious of staff based on their race and sex, their maleness and paleness, in order to find bigotry that they assume must exist solely because of their skin colour.

It seems to me that when you’re reduced to hunting for “unconscious bias,” as supposedly confirmed by a person’s preferred charity or the random positioning of a chair, then you’ve crossed a line into something approaching hysteria. And a license for malice.

Too Pale-Skinned For Comfort.

At the University of London, feats of umbrage and projection.

Readers will note that the students, these avowed opponents of racism, refer to themselves, and by extension all black students, as if they were some ancient and unfathomable offshoot of humanity, for whom rapport with outsiders is impossible. And who are supposedly oppressed by the unremarkable fact that, in a white-majority country, their professors will often be white and – as seems unavoidable – older than the students.

Readers may also wonder how such exquisitely sensitive creatures will fare when faced with potential employers who may also be paler than themselves and, shockingly, not nineteen.

In short, the students are admitting, albeit unwittingly, that in fact they are the inflexible and bigoted ones, the ones preoccupied with racist and ageist stereotypes, and are incapable of feeling “comfortable” with people whose appearance differs from their own.

Indigenous Land Acknowledgement.

Or, Landscape Paintings Now Deemed Racist, Morally Corrupting.

The problem, we’re told, is that paintings from the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries are “leaving very little room for representations of people of colour.” And obviously, even the past must be made “inclusive and representative.”

Because apparently that’s now the reason that museums exist.

Which seems to mean that we must all pretend that our islands’ population and cultural assumptions have always looked like those of, say, twenty-first century London, a city whose demographics bear little relationship to those of the country as a whole, even in the twenty-first century.

It occurs to me that notions of racial “representation” will likely be distorted by the embrace of rather parochial progressive conceits, and by proximity to the nation’s capital, which in my lifetime has gone from a native white-majority city, over 90%, to a native white-minority one, around 35%, and which is wildly out of step with the rest of the nation. Things that are denounced as “horribly white,” or whatever the current term of disapproval is, may not seem so to people who live in, say, Chesterfield or Plymouth…

But apparently, museum visitors must be warned that the sight of a Constable landscape may trigger TERRIFYING BLOOD AND SOIL TENDENCIES. Or at least inspire thoughts of historical attachment, continuity and belonging – thoughts that may be disconcerting or very much frowned upon, if only by the – wait for it – keepers of our heritage.

And so we have high-status cultural custodians whose traditional function is now merely an ostensible function, such that the kinds of appreciation and sense of historical connection that their predecessors sought to engender are now merely qualities to inhibit and subvert. The perversity of which is hard to overstate.

For those craving more, this is a pretty good place to start.

Consider this an open thread. Share ye links and bicker.

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Written by: David
Ephemera

Friday Ephemera (835)

September 25, 2026 211 Comments

Vertical filing solution, 1937. || You want one and you know it. || Hosing is hard. || Hello, children. || Shakespeare’s horror story. || Hitachi K-88 portable television, 1978. || Place in food chain negotiation. || A minimum of 30 seconds. Because keeping one eye on your watch is just what you want. || Bach in the rain. || In a bun. || Vibrancy and enrichment. || Value added. || The thrill of having kidneys. || Question asked. || Coquettish stance adopted. || A stroll around Castleton, not too far from here. || It’s all in the hips. Though I’m not sure about the colour. || On choosing a TV set, 1964. || His is bigger. || Keyboard configuration. || For those so inclined, only $13,000. || It says “Portland sports bra riot.” || This tale of a puppy’s encounters with human beings starts in a dark place, but it does get better.

And as this is fundraising week, which keeps this place here, do feel free to make use of the tip jar.

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Basking

Tokens Of Gratitude And Esteem

September 20, 2026 224 Comments

With various blog-related expenses looming, annual renewals of this and that, I’m going to do something reckless and appeal to your better nature.

If you’d like to ensure this place exists a while longer and remains ad-free, there are three buttons below the fold with which to monetise any love. Debit and credit cards are accepted. If what happens here is of value, this is a chance to show it.

If one-click haste is called for, there’s a QR code in the sidebar, at which you point your phone camera, and my PayPal.Me page can be found here. There are also SubscribeStar and Ko-Fi accounts, via which love may be monetised, whether as one-off donations or monthly subscriptions. Should you be gripped by an urge to express encouragement via currency, by all means succumb.

Additionally, any Amazon UK shopping done via this link, or via the button in the sidebar, results in a small fee for your host at no extra cost to you.

Sordid business, I grant you, but it’s what keeps this place here.

For newcomers wishing to know more about what’s been going on here for nigh on twenty years, in over 3,600 posts and hundreds of thousands of comments, the Reheated series is a pretty good place to start – in particular, the end-of-year-summaries, which convey the fullest flavour of what it is we do. A sort of blog concentrate. If you like what you find there… well, there’s lots more of that.

Do take a moment to poke through the discussion threads too. The posts are intended as starting points, not full stops, and the comments are where much of the good stuff is waiting to be found. And do please join in.

As always, thanks for the support, the comments, and the company.

Consider this an open thread. Share ye links and bicker.

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Written by: David
Ephemera

Friday Ephemera (834)

September 18, 2026 155 Comments

Not entirely sure what’s happening here. (h/t, Dicentra) || You want one and you know it. || Situational awareness. || Spear protocol. || Pressure suit, 1934. || For all your vaporising needs. || On progressive out-group bias. || It’s a job. || You’ll want one of these buggers, too. || And she can bend it backwards. || His is bigger. || Battle of the sexes, or “windmilling fat birds.” || The Bashinator 9000. || On the coming of decimal currency, 1970. || A ruler was used. || Regurgitation of note. || Incoming. || Traffic camera tunes, a live entertainment of sorts. || “Now that it’s inserted, we are ready for a conversation.” || How to make an origami typewriter. || Oral Care for the Mentally Retarded, 1966. || Film poster restoration. || The glamour of flight. || Place in food chain negotiation. || A project for the weekend.

To enable extra commenting options – including @username mentions, comment editing, upvotes, custom avatars, and live notifications – scroll down to the black ‘Meta’ box at the very bottom of the page and click register. It’s free and quite painless.

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Those Poor Darling Fare Dodgers

It Tells Us Who You Are

September 16, 2026 72 Comments

Lifted from the comments, this caught my eye:

It’s obviously not about the three dollars and understanding this is a prerequisite for building civilization https://t.co/zzDNdmJ0Rw

— wanye (@xwanyex) September 15, 2026

Turns out you can always find a self-styled communist to defend antisocial behaviour, in this case, repeated, somewhat triumphant fare-dodging.

The chap doing the fare-dodging, since you ask, is a fashion designer who likes to pose with expensive cars, and whose fashion shoots have employed a fare-dodging motif.

Because fashion is so inspirational, you see. A force for our collective betterment.

As one might imagine, our proud communist is experiencing some pushback in his replies, generally from people who actually pay for the services they use, thereby helping to ensure said services remain in existence.

Among the many replies, the not inapt notion that if $3 is too trivial a sum to warrant an arrest or any kind of enforcement, it is also a trivial sum over which to risk being arrested.

And if you’re willing to commit a crime for $3, needlessly, for amusement, that tells us something.

As one chap puts it,

They are stealing from their fellow citizens. Spitting in our faces.

Indeed. Fare-dodging is rarely a crime of desperation. It is more typically a display of contempt. For the likes of thee and me.

And as others note in the replies, people who commit more serious crimes on public transport tend to be fare-dodgers. Enforcing punishment of the smaller crime can have quite dramatic secondary effects:

Keeping fare evaders out of the subway by any means necessary has huge ancillary benefits. https://t.co/rhgBXCBs4r

— Harry Heymann 🥑 (@harryh) September 15, 2026

Needless to say, our proud communist is responding to his critics with all of the mental elegance one would expect:

The subject of fare-dodging – and the assumptions of its devotees – has cropped up here before.

Including claims of supposedly altruistic fare-dodging, whereby stiffing others with the bill, the cost of you getting from A to B, because you can’t be arsed, is somehow the very measure of politeness. Of being a caring and progressive person.

A freeloading world, in which abusing the trust of others is hailed as “the best way to live” and a basis for applause, and whose practitioners pretend a virtue, a moral sophistication, that seemingly has little to do with how they actually behave.

And likewise, the progressive annoyance at those who dare to notice the phenomenon at all. A weirdly uniform contrivance, with lecturers, lawyers and “Oscar-nominated” screenwriters expressing their “exhausted rage” – not at the criminal activity occurring right in front of them, every day, and with ever-greater boldness – but at those who mention it, even in the mildest terms.

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In which we marvel at the mental contortions of our self-imagined betters.